Mixed Messages
by Lala Kate
Summary: Being a progressive fellow, Charles asks Mary out on a date. Set in between S4 E8 and E9.


_Merry Christmas to all of you Mary/Blake fans out there. This is my contribution to the Mary/Charles Secret Santa Fic Exchange so beautifully commandeered and organized by **Silvestri**a. :) For my friend** lovespurplemustaches**, I so enjoyed bringing this scenario to life, and I hope it lived up to your expectations. Thanks to my dear friend **miscreantrose** for the edits, and to all of you out there reading: May you have the Happiest of New Years, and may God's richest blessings be upon you and your loved ones. _

_Disclaimer: Own nothing. Many thanks to Julian Fellowes for writing such an amazing program and characters, and to Michelle Dockery and Julian Ovenden for giving them such life and spark. _

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Prompt from lovespurplemustaches: Being a progressive fella, Charles asks Mary out on a date.

_**Mixed Messages**_

_**By: Lala-Kate **_

"Were you saying something, Charles?'

His tongue felt unusually thick, his palms clammier than he could remember them being for quite some time. He turned to face her, her stare unflinching as she tugged her coat's collar a bit closer to her neck.

"Not really," he fumbled, her gaze suddenly too direct for his comfort. His hands fidgeted in his pockets, something he feared she noted with pinprick clarity.

"That's funny," she replied, her son yet again claiming her attention as he discovered some fallen leaves lying forgotten on the grass. "I could have sworn you mentioned something about London."

His stomach dropped as what little moisture he had remaining abandoned his mouth. He had been caught, and now there was no way around it. Why on earth was he feeling like a schoolboy attempting to speak with his first infatuation? After all, he had clearly stated his intentions towards her, had flat out informed her that he would not simply skulk into the shadows without putting up a fight for her affections. His visits to Downton had been increasing as of late as he wanted to make his presence known and interest felt without exerting too much pressure. God knew that the very last thing he wanted was for Mary to bolt from his side into the more than willing arms of another lying in wait.

Yet he wanted to dare a new step in this hesitant tango they had taken up a few months ago, one that required a slight increase in tempo and a closer stance.

"I did, actually," he began, squaring his courage as he caught a small grin gracing her lips. "Mention London, that is."

"Well, let's have it, then," she commanded, hastening her step slightly as pudgy legs began to move faster across the lawn. "What about London?"

Her back was now to him as she turned to keep George in sight. He bit his lip to keep from cursing under his breath as she moved ahead of him yet again. This was not going according to plan. Not at all.

Quickening his own stride to keep up with her, he halted to let out a deep chuckle as George took a joyous nose-dive into a pile of leaves, much to his mother's chagrin.

"What are you laughing at?" she questioned, watching her son gleefully wallow in nature's treasure box. "He'll be filthy, you know."

"Not quite as filthy as we were," he dared, gratified to see her chin dip as lashes tossed him coy glance. "If I'm remembering correctly, that is."

"I can't argue that point," she admitted, the shine in her eyes catching him off guard. "I don't think I've ever been that dirty in my life."

Whether her heightened color was from physical exertion, the nip in the air or other reasons entirely, it was impossible to discern. But he preferred to believe the latter.

Please, dear God. Let it be the latter.

"Nor I," he returned, feeling warmth creep into his own cheeks. "But at least the results turned out in our favor."

Her gaze bored into him, making him wonder exactly what was playing across her mind as he shifted slightly.

"Thankfully," she finally stated, her forehead creasing slightly. "I would hate to think you saw me in such a state for nothing."

"As if I looked any better?" he returned, grinning as she shrugged her shoulders.

"I doubt either of us would have won any prizes," she mused, turning towards George's squeal of delight as he repeated his fall into the cushioned pile.

"Oh, I don't know," he put forth, biting his lower lip. "I think you might have scored one for sheer determination."

"And you one for that jump over the fence."

Leaves rustled as the air shifted, and they paused, caught up in a moment which robbed them both of the ability to speak.

She had noticed his leap over the fence?

"You were saying about London," she finally voiced, dropping her gaze to hands that were suddenly restless, clasping them together self-consciously.

"Right," he repeated, drawing a deep breath he quickly exhaled with force. "I must return to London tomorrow."

"Yes," she cajoled, both fascinated and mildly put out by his marked reluctance to get to the point. "You informed me of that when you arrived."

"Did I?" he mused, stalling yet again to fix his courage.

"Yes. You did."

At that moment George ran back towards them, proudly holding something squeezed into dimpled fists. He knelt and mussed the boy's hair, grinning as two acorns were laid in his outstretched palm.

"Thank you, George," he stated, smiling at the boy's enthusiasm as he raced back to his mysterious new find.

"You're stalling, Charles," Mary observed flatly, not taking her eyes from him as he pushed himself back into a standing position. "This is not like you."

His fingers ransacked his scalp, and he shook his head at his own cowardice.

"You're right," he admitted, returning his hands to his pockets. "It's not like me at all."

He watched her draw a steadying breath, turning to face him as she pressed her lips together.

"I think I know what this is about."

He froze, every muscle on high alert as he met her gaze head-on.

"You do?"

He watched her fidget slightly, her marked discomfort making his stomach drop.

"If you want to cease your attentions towards me, I do understand," she finally put forth, blinking more rapidly than usual, her hands getting away from her. "I haven't exactly been encouraging, and it's only natural you might grow tired of waiting for me to catch up."

Cease his attentions? His mind dashed ahead of him, lips moving of their own accord even as no coherent sound progressed from them.

"Listen, Mary, I can assure you…"

"Oh, do be honest with me, Charles," she interrupted, the pitch of her voice rising. "I know you must tire of me dragging my feet as I do, and these constant trips to Downton must get old when I'm not the most exciting of prospects."

"Not at all," he blurted out, stepping towards her as she quickly turned her back. "And if you would only…"

"I just wish you would tell me right out rather than beating around the bush as you're doing," she insisted, refusing to look in his direction. "We have always been direct with each other, and I would very much hate to lose that, even if you are attempting to extricate yourself gently."

"I am not trying to extricate myself gently!" he pushed in, finally shocking both her and George into silence by the volume of his outburst. "Or roughly, for that matter. I'm not trying to extricate myself from you at all, Mary. I am actually rather enjoying the position we're in!"

He paused as he saw her chin begin to quiver, snippets of held-back laughter escaping through her nose and trembling chest as the implications of what he had just said began to sink in.

"Well, now I feel like a complete ninny," he mused, unable to stop the self-depreciating chuckle that pushed its way through his larynx as uncomfortable heat spread to the tips of his ears. She could hold back no longer, a cackle he hadn't heard since their night in the barn unknotting nerves that had bound him throughout the afternoon.

"I'm glad Papa didn't hear you say that," she pointed out, giving him a sideways smile that lit her eyes. "He may have had you thrown off the premises."

"It's Carson I'd be more worried about, honestly," he admitted, rubbing his neck as he smiled at her in return. "I believe he would have me tarred and feathered if he even for one moment thought that we'd…"

He stopped just before the words left his mouth, rolling his eyes at just how close he had come to embarrassing himself once again.

"Yes," she quipped softly, quirking her expression just so. "He would. To be quite honest, I'm not at all certain you would survive the encounter."

"Neither am I," he agreed, turning to watch as George threw and handful of leaves over his head with unbridled glee.

"So if you're not trying to _extricate_ yourself from our current position," she stated wryly, her brows emphasizing one word in particular, "What is it that you're so reluctant to tell me?"

His feet moved towards her deliberately, giving into the need to be closer, fascinated by a stray tendril of hair being toyed with by the wind.

"I had wondered, actually, if you had ever taken in the cinema," he returned, watching her closely for a reaction.

"You mean moving pictures?" she queried with interest. "I've never seen one, if that's what you're asking."

"Neither have I," he admitted, leaning in closer. "But I've been very curious about them."

"I'm rather surprised that a modern gentleman such as yourself hasn't taken in the cinema, living in London as you do," she observed, resuming a slow walk in George's direction. "Why is that, Charles?"

He paused, gripping his hat tightly.

"To be honest, I haven't had anyone with whom I would like to share the experience," he began, looking at her directly. "Until now, that is."

The weight in his remark was impossible to miss, and her brow creased as she processed his admission.

"Wait a minute," she muttered, shaking her head slightly. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

He matched her stare for stare, wondering again at her thought pattern as her head tilted slightly in his direction.

"Yes," he replied bluntly. "That's exactly what I'm doing, Mary."

"Then why all of this maddening hemming and hawing about?" she demanded abruptly, her mouth slightly agape. "Why not just ask me out directly?"

"Because I wasn't certain how you would respond," he retaliated, feeling a bit defensive at her direct inquiry. "We've been taking things slowly, and to ask you to travel alone with me in London was a rather large step, I thought."

"So instead you led me to believe that you had tired of this courtship?" she questioned, unwilling to budge an inch.

"I did nothing of the sort," he retorted, catching a spark of fire in her eyes. "It was you who leapt to that conclusion, Mary. I certainly said nothing that implied such a thing."

"You most certainly did," she insisted. "Or at least your reluctance to address the issue at hand implied it."

"Oh, for God's sake, will you come to the cinema with me, or won't you?"

The tempo of their breathing matched perfectly, the rise and fall of chests contrasting with pupils frozen in place.

"Yes," she answered evenly, her eyes narrowing. "How can I refuse such a gallant offer?"

"You can't," he quipped, quirking his own brow to match her stance. "It's irresistible, and you know it."

"Careful," she warned with a smirk. "Your lack of wit is showing."

Her remark struck with precision, and he chuckled in acknowledgement, feeling more alive than he had in weeks as a surge of excitement coursed through his veins.

"So, will you travel to London with me tomorrow?" he inquired, rocking back on his heels, "Or would you prefer to journey separately?"

"I think we can manage the ride to London together without drawing too much blood," she returned, enjoying the flicker of promise in his gaze. "Or are you concerned you won't survive the journey?"

"I think I can handle whatever you choose to dish out," he affirmed, watching the slight play of a challenge accepted coax the muscles of her face.

"And I think you may yet underestimate my abilities," she dared, the flare in her eyes effectively dispelling any chill in the breeze.

"You have proven that your ability to scramble eggs rivals even that of Mrs. Patmore," he stated wryly. "Why should I ever doubt your abilities again?"

"I'm not certain if I just received a compliment or an indirect insult," she mused, her brow knit severely even as her lips tilted upward.

"Why do I have the feeling you would happily smear mud across my face right now if it were readily available?" he questioned, noting the twitch on the side of her mouth she just barely fought back.

"Because you know damn well that I would," she smirked with polished ease, "and that you would enjoy it."

He nearly choked on his own saliva.

She then walked away from him, tossing him a half-glance over her shoulder, expecting he would follow her closely. His head shook of its own accord as his legs fell in step behind her, his entire being now fraught with anticipation over just what tomorrow might hold.

One thing was for certain: a date with Mary Crawley would most certainly not be dull.

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_There are several MC fics being posted today. Be sure to check all of them out, and feel free to leave your thoughts behind for this one! Have a lovely Tuesday, everyone. _


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